


Lost

by GraveVyxen



Category: Robin Hood (BBC 2006)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GraveVyxen/pseuds/GraveVyxen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Takes place between seasons 2 and 3. Guy has trouble trying to sleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lost

**Author's Note:**

> TITLE: Lost
> 
> CHARACTERS: Guy of Gisborne, Marian of Knighton
> 
> PAIRINGS: Implied one-sided Guy/Marian
> 
> NOTES: I just really felt a need to write something quick and a bit on the sad side. Spoilers for the end of season 2.
> 
> DISCLAIMER: Not my characters. Never happened.

He hated to sleep. Ever since…ever since he’d lost her ( _he’d lost her, lost her, that was how it happened, he didn’t do it on purpose and it was all Hood’s fault, he’d lost her_ ) Guy found that sleep had become a place of suffering, an instrument of torture designed to shred the last of his sanity every time his eyes drifted closed. He’d lost her and he couldn’t sleep knowing that she would never be there when he woke up. When she was alive ( _breathing, warm_ ), there had always been a chance, always a chance that she would accept his courting, always a chance that she would agree to marry him, lie with him, kiss him awake. Now she was gone and the dreams of a life together one day had gone up in smoke, and he’d never get to see her smiling face, her body in his arms, and it was all Hood’s fault anyway, he’d made Guy do it, there was no question. Hood’s fault, always Hood’s fault.

And it didn’t help that she still came to him at night ( _he wasn’t going crazy, he just wasn’t, it was her and she was there_ ), sometimes raving, sometimes sweet, sometimes saying nothing at all. But he was growing used to her presence in the corner of his bedchamber. Used to her soft skin that light couldn’t penetrate, used to her unkissable lips. And the fact that he couldn’t touch her, couldn’t feel or smell her, reminded him that she was gone and there was no way, no way this was her in his room.

Marian…his Marian, coming to him to remind him that he couldn’t have her, not even now. He couldn’t have her and that hurt him, killed him, because it was all Hood’s fault. She should’ve been his, always, should’ve been his wife, should’ve been his lover. But Hood had ruined that, come between them, forced Guy’s hand. And Marian still had the gall to come to him at night and remind him of what could’ve been ( _should’ve been, she should’ve been his and she would have agreed if Hood had just died instead of her, if Hood could’ve just_ died _and let him have what was rightfully his, Marian was his_ ).

Tonight was no different, tossing, turning, unable to keep his eyes closed, and then he heard her voice, the small hum, the way she always got his attention. Guy shot up in bed at the familiar, sweet sound of her voice, eyes searching out and finding that ethereal being at the foot of his bed, white dress still stained dark red, eyes bright ( _not dull, never dull, Marian’s eyes were always bright and alive, always_ ), lips quirked up in that thoughtful smile that she often had.

Guy sat up higher, moving the covers aside enough to move towards her, fingers outstretched, even though he knew he couldn’t touch her flesh anymore ( _but maybe if he tried again, maybe this time she would be whole and living and soft, warm and alive under his fingertips, maybe this time…_ ). His suspicions were confirmed when his hand slid easily through her cheek, not a fraction of heat at the touch, nothing. She was still dead, still gone, never to come back to him.

And she was silent. Not a word through those smirking lips. She just watched him, watched as he slowly fell apart in front of her. The longer she stood there, the more desperate he became, reaching out again and again to touch, being denied the feel of her silky hair and smooth skin, his eyes  growing wild with need, want, growing mad.

And, finally, Marian stepped back, away, fading away into the darkness of Guy’s walls, gone again and he let out a wail. Gone, and still untouchable. He clutched the sheets in his rough hands, roaring out his pain to the ceiling. He couldn’t sleep knowing that she may come back, knowing she was there, but not quite _there_ and it was killing him ( _she was there, she had to be, she’d come back and it would all be a jest, she would speak to him this time, she would, she would…_ ). But she didn’t. He was still awake when the sun rose and she’d never come back. All he had to show for her visit was a handful of crumpled blanket and a hoarse throat.

She’d not said a word, but she still tore his whole world apart.


End file.
